


Welcome Home

by hegemony



Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multiple Universe, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-09
Updated: 2011-10-09
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:39:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hegemony/pseuds/hegemony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is the story of Mickey's Captain, and Mickey's Captain's city.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Welcome Home

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for Porn Battle VI, published 1st-Aug-2008 for the prompts "Companions, Reunion."
> 
> Significantly revised.

In his head, Mickey knows the City of Cardiff will always be synonymous with Captain Jack Harkness. The two of them are tied together like timeless companions in his memory, even though that sounds disgustingly fluffy for a bloke and the coldest city in the kingdom. Still, three times is all that it takes, Mickey supposes, to seal something in stone.

The first time, Rose had been blinded by the Doctor's wonder. They had strayed away and left Jack with him.

It didn't take much to realize Jack's intentions: he'd stayed close to Mickey, body language like they were best mates. Mickey recognized Jack's hands lingering when passing things, fingers digging into shoulders, the feel of competition and something else just below the surface for something Mickey couldn't quite put his finger on. Strangely enough, it took even less effort to convince Mickey to play along. A part of him knew he'd be seeing Rose off for good this time, that their relationship was slipping through his fingers.

Jack had demanded a curry, and Mickey demanded the chance to sulk over a brew, sneering, "I don't need your pity, Harkness."

Jack's hands had paused, his knife and fork set down. He looked on with eyes Mickey would eventually know well, a look of history and compassion, a muted smile. "This isn't about pity. We have a lot in common, you and I. Including how we need company when we get disappointed."

"Disappointed," Mickey had said on a humorless laugh, as Jack flagged their waitress for another round.

After, Jack had simply pulled him into an attractively quiet back alley, thrown him against the wall with this absolutely naughty smile, pressing his fingers into the waistband of Mickey's jeans and stroking him right off. Jack's mouth was wet and warm as it swallowed down Mickey's moans. There had been the delicious thought of pressing Jack down, right down to his knees and making him clean him up.

Jack just smiled at him, kissed him one last time, "Aww, c'mon, we have to keep something for later, Mickey Mouse. Where's your sense of timing?"

Mickey didn't know just how central that question would be to his relationship with Jack, then. He'd simply felt less heartbroken when the TARDIS had throbbed and whirred and faded from view, leaving him behind. He'd wrapped himself deeper into his coat and trudged back to his car, thinking of how Jack tasted of saffron and cider and cinnamon. He'd thought of it, and what it said about him, all the way home.

 

 

The second time, Mickey had already transitioned to the other universe, working on assignment with Torchwood One, leading the charge against the cybermen. It was tireless work, and the days dragged on, long and grey and colder than even he had expected. In a lull, Mickey had gone walking along the Plass, cup of tea in his hands, the blustery wind cold but not bitter.

A man was standing at the end of the plass, down by the ledge, leading off the cliff. Mickey watched from afar as he neatly took off his jacket, revealing a t-shirt and jeans as he sat up on the railing. His balance is beautiful, teetering on the ledge, looking out into the Sea. Mickey walked closer, curled up even deeper in his jacket, and the man lifts his face to look back at Mickey, lips curling into a self-defeating smile.

Jack.

Mickey bolted, dropping the cup of tea and latching a hand right around Jack's middle. He uses all the strength he had to haul him away from the edge as Jack tips himself over, destined to fall into the sea.

"I don't know who you are or what has happened to you, sir, but I assure you that is not the answer you are looking for," Mickey told him, assertive. Jack nodded, lamented a response, but fell silent instead. A cold dread falls over Mickey, like the man will try again once he's left. Instead, all Jack does is reach out for his jacket with one hand and Mickey's face in the other, guiding mickey's lips to his. They kiss like Jack will never see him again, like there's surrender in every inch of Jack's mouth, they kiss so hard it hurts to part-- to breathe.

"You shouldn't be alone right now," Mickey says. "I can call someone, you can stay with my..."

Jack shakes his head, pushing a few euros into Mickey's hand as he breaks Mickey's hold. "That's for your tea. I'd like it a lot if you don't look for me. I won't try again, I promise."

After that, he runs off in the other direction, and it hurts Mickey to admit that he doesn't have the time to disobey a direct order like that.

 

 

 

The third time-- this time-- things feel more mature. As mature as they can be, at least, in Mickey's new apartment, Jack spread thin out under him. This is happy teasing at will and leisure, verbal gauntlets thrown down. It's challenges being met, two blokes having a good time. There's a lot going on, here, but it's finally all about them, all in the moment. Even if the moment features Jack's hands eclipsing the swells of Mickey's arse, pressuring him even deeper, pushing himself even wider like he's going to panic if he's not stuffed up with dick right this second.

It's a lazy day, one of the first Mickey's had in a long while and Jack tries to find space in every quarter, leaves no stone left unturned as he flicks at the scars and bruises Mickey's accrued since he became a military man. Jack's face twists into a smirk when Mickey finally pushes in. He wraps his hands with Mickey's, his legs twined around Mickey's waist. The position may be a little intimate for sport-fucking, sure, but Mickey kind of likes the fact that he gets to see Jack's face as he pushes hard, hips like fire. Jack shakes and strains are like ecstacy to watch, as he writhes and returns the kisses and loving the feeling of Mickey taking what he wants.

The spirit of competition becomes almost too much to handle, the both of them trying to get the other to come first, never relenting when they don't, always embellishing the small victory if they do. They tire each other out, grabbing at lines and angles and bones, skin to skin.

Somehow, Though, this feels like a welcome home. The bloke he loves to hate and the City said bloke lives in may have asked him to stay around for a little while longer. The feeling fills him up with warmth, even if it is kind of sappy. It makes him feel better about leaving Jackie and Rose behind. After all, Rose knows how to get what she wants, and the dividends have paid off handsomely: maybe it's time for Mickey to get what he deserves, too.

Mickey's sure things aren't quite as simple as that, and that there will be some serious questions ahead. He lays on his side and ponders it until he can feel Jack's presence at his back again.

Hey, wait a minute...

"Oi! Should have reckoned you a cuddler, Harkness."

Jack sighs and drops a kiss on his shoulder. "Oh come on, you can be the big spoon if you want."

'Welcome Home' indeed, Mickey thinks.


End file.
